


Soft and pillow-y

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bad handjobs, M/M, Stupid boyfriends, gratuitous fluff, sleepy touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zitao starts to squirm, limbs sleep-heavy and uncoordinated. "Say that to my face," he threatens vaguely, eyes slitted open. The kiss Sehun plants on his cheek is loud and wet, and Zitao's annoyance quickly gives way to displeased affection. "No. I don't like you," he purrs, Sehun's lips at his jaw. "Don't like you at all."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Sleepy cuddly touching. That's it, that's the fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft and pillow-y

**Author's Note:**

> Gift fic absolutely not for my Jongdae. I wanted to work our awful rainy Sunday flirting over twitter into something but unfortunately she has a fluff allergy and this is puerile fluff. So this is totally not for you chenny, but thank you for the snippets of dialogue. Please don't vomit on it and/or me :P (cries this was supposed to be under 500w. I hope it posts ok from my phone ; A;)

'Everyone's out, are you going to be back soon?'

'Yeah but I'm really tired'

'But everyone's out :(( when is everyone ever out :((('

'You said you were going to  
sleep anyway. idk maybe.'

Zitao tilts his head back with a sigh. Right at this very second he couldn't place feeling inclined more one way than another, and he jogs his phone between his hands before sending a second reply.

'it's cold and I'm tired I want to  
cuddle'

_typing..._

'I can cuddle fuck you if you want me to'

If he was asked — more likely if he decided to tell Sehun, because if he was Sehun he'd be interested in boyfriend updates, Zitao couldn't say which struck first of the fit of giggles or the lurch down low in his stomach. The tingles are passing, though, and walk off, whereas it's the giggles Sehun hears down the phone when Zitao calls instead of replying.

"I'm walking from the car now," he says to explain why he's stopped texting, "And interested."

"I'm wearing my ugly sweater," Sehun yawns in reply, "The soft pillow-y one."

Zitao's subsided laughter is quick to bubble back up. "I'm very interested. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Goo~d." Sehun draws the sound out long and lethargic. Zitao squeezes his phone tighter to his ear and his arm tight into his side where his chest is doing silly floaty feeling things. The seasons have fully turned now and the air is damp, cold enough to burn in his nose, but that's not enough incentive for him to stop grinning.

For several moments all Zitao can hear is the heels of his boots as he walks, and Sehun dozily existing on the other end of the line.

"Boyfriend," he says with a tone of mock-annoyance when the building is in sight and he's sure Sehun has fallen asleep. "I'm nearly back."

There's further silence, rustling, and then, "I've started without you."

 

Curious, Zitao makes the end of his journey as quickly as possible. He toes out of his boots and heads to Sehun's room still wrapped in his coat and scarf.

"Oh," he says when he pushes open the door. It's to find Sehun unmoving under the covers, fingers inside his sleeves and the neck of his sweater up to his ears. Zitao throws his scarf at him before working on his coat buttons. "What was that about starting without me?"

"Yeah, I am," Sehun says from under the covers, unwounded by the scarf. "The cuddle part."

Zitao shrugs out of his coat and hangs that over the back of a chair rather than using it as a projectile, and does the same with his jeans as he asks, "And what about the other part?"

Amongst grumbling sounds Sehun starts to emerge slightly.

Zitao lifts his shirt at the hem, but no longer flushed with warmth from his walk the chill in the air lingers on him. His hair is damp and his face is cold and Sehun is wearing his thickest sweater in bed — tugging it back down and leeching boyfriend heat seems the better option.

"Yeah. Ok, so I'm going to lie here," Sehun demonstrates by turning onto his side, whole body sloping. It takes effort not to flop face down back into a pillow. "And you, you can lie next to me. And then put your back against my chest, I think, and your legs will have to be like.."

Zitao's rubbing his numb fingers together, rings clattering. "This is starting to sound complicated."

"You're ruining the moment," Sehun says with his eyes so heavy lidded. "Come on," waves a hand at Zitao, too lazy to sit up and reach for him. "Climb on me and lets start."

 

"This is a lot more of one thing you offered than the other."

"I never said anything about how the two would be proportioned."

" _Propop_..?" Zitao frowns, glancing over his shoulder. All he can see is the arm of Sehun's sweater, bunches of excess isometric fabric. Sehun draped over his back as soon as he got in, enveloping him in itchy wool and heat. Zitao's hands are warming back up nicely where they're wedged one under his newly acquired sleeve-pillow and one between the hold of an arm around his waist. Sehun's legs are tingling warmth pressed into and tangled around his own.

"How much you get of each." Sehun yawns over Zitao's nape, and that was nice and warm too.

"Oh. Well don't think this counts for anything." Zitao's whine is soft, his eyes placidly shut as he wiggles his hips back just enough to make Sehun grumble at the pressure. Zitao is underdressed in comparison, but even through thick baggy cotton Sehun is more heat pressed into his back. Sehun is only half-hard and at least two thirds asleep, though, and Zitao is much the same.

"I told you to get on me and you didn't," Sehun says with a puff of hot breath into Zitao's hair. "Not my fault we're wasting an opportunity."

"I needed to warm up," Zitao protests, "Seeing as I actually got out of bed today. What if I got another cold and it was your fault for being, being lazy and pressuring me— _coercing_ me," he amends with stress cut through his sleepy tone, and Sehun noses against the back of his neck as he laughs. Zitao's vocabulary expands in the oddest directions.

"I'd feel awful," Sehun says, flatline. "You'd look so gross."

Zitao starts to squirm, limbs sleep-heavy and uncoordinated. "Say that to my face," he threatens vaguely, eyes slitted open. The kiss Sehun plants on his cheek is loud and wet, and Zitao's annoyance quickly gives way to displeased affection. "No. I don't like you," he purrs, Sehun's lips at his jaw. "Don't like you at all."

Zitao's skin is steadily warming for being under covers and sweater and boyfriend, but Sehun's hand still feels scalding against him as it shoves up under his shirt. Heat skimming over his waist, fingers spread through the trail of hair above his waistband. Neither efficient nor clumsy, Sehun's hands just know their way around Zitao, whether they're feeling blindly and hindered by a ridiculously oversized sweater or not.

Zitao pushes Sehun's sleeve up for him when the wool starts to itch against his stomach, turning slightly more towards him and happily squirming further into the excess of warm fabric covering Sehun's chest. They refer to this sweater as the pillow-y one with good reason.

"This is still a lot more cuddle though," Zitao complains as though he's not preening at the (mostly) well-aimed strokes and squeezes through his underwear. Tensing his thighs and rocking his hips in a gentle, unconscious tandem with the touches.

"Yeah." Sehun tugs at his waistband. That involves his hand lifting from between Zitao's legs; Zitao kicks his heels into the mattress in complaint. "Take these off," Sehun says, and Zitao makes a face.

That a. sounds like a lot of effort and b. would involve parting from the sweater. "You take them off."

Sehun gives him a stony look and heaves a sigh over Zitao's shoulder. _Hot_. "You know what you are?"

Zitao tries to wiggle closer, wedging himself under Sehun's chin. "Pretty."

"High maintenance."

 

It's not the best handjob Sehun's ever given, considering Zitao is making a pillow of his (now dead and unresponsive) dominant arm, but Zitao makes no complaints. Zitao does relatively little of anything beyond pressing back deeper into the enveloping warmth of Sehun's sweater. Sehun would think he was sleeping through it if it weren't for occasional soft, pleased sounds passing his kittenish smile. That's what he is, Sehun thinks; lazily content like a cat in a sun patch.

It's a rarity that they get time alone anywhere but hotel rooms, showers, places convenient and out of sight but all less desirable than the familiar comfort of their own beds. Maybe this is a wasted opportunity in one sense, but in another it's sweet, gross intimacy, open as they want. Relaxing unguarded is an uncommon plus, too. But the shared heat and lingering lethargy from Sehun's previous nap soon starts to overcome him in much the same way sleep is taking Zitao — Sehun almost drifts at one point, rhythm and grip dropping away.

"Hey," Zitao nudges back with his elbow when he eventually notices. Doesn't even open his eyes. "Don't you dare."

"Ugh." Sehun huffs with his mouth to Zitao's shoulder. Dragging himself back up from sleep isn't appealing, but neither is underwhelming the pile of warm sleepy (preening _sticky_ ) boyfriend weighing against his chest. "Didn't on purpose.

Tao, I didn't," he reaffirms, softer, because he's not always a jerk — even if that's partially why Zitao loves him, and pushes up a little. Leans over Zitao's shoulder and dips down, mouth still so hot to Zitao's autumn chilled skin.

Zitao wriggles first, more like a protest, like he's victim to an onslaught of tickles or pokes and prods or something less pleasant than the trail of kisses down into the hollow of his throat. He just feels so warm inside and out, thought's empty and full of white noise and he's not even sure that Sehun changes pace or tightens his hold, but the heat peaks with Sehun's teeth blunt around the curve of his jaw.

 

"Gross." If Sehun's voice beside Zitao's ear doesn't efficiently cut through his nice glowy floaty moment the hand wiping itself clean on his underwear does. On his thigh, too. It takes until Sehun resorts to rolling his tacky fingers against Zitao's stomach for him to protest, first with a groan and then with a feeble headbutt to Sehun's shoulder.

"It's not like you didn't know that would happen."

"Mm."

Zitao shifts abruptly. He manages to dig an elbow into Sehun at least three times in the tiresome process of turning onto his back. Makes himself comfortable against Sehun's shoulder and then turns again, curling against him and into a facefull of itchy fabric. "Not like you're not used to it."

"What are you trying to say about me?" Sehun sounds annoyed, runs his fingers through Zitao's hair and down, down between his shoulder blades to hold him closer like he wouldn't be anywhere else. He wouldn't, and Zitao knows, and Zitao good as purrs at the touch.

Then it dawns on him what's digging into his hip. "Oh." With effort he blinks his heavy eyelids back open. "Oh. So, do you want me to..?" His hand gropes into the sweater but doesn't make much progress with trying to find a way underneath it before Sehun swats him away.

"Hell no," he says between yawns. Frowns for effect, as Zitao is currently alert enough to be looking. "You're wearing all of your rings."

"Oh. Yeah." They both wince; Sehun in recollection and Zitao in sympathy. One attempt at that to save on time was one attempt too many. "But, I can take them off," Zitao pouts down at his fingers as though that may require some serious thought. He's not sure how long it's been since they last had a day off, even less sure why he hasn't spent all of it here sleeping.

Sehun is far from convinced that even without the rings Zitao would be coordinated enough. "Don't bother. Just—" Sehun shifts and Zitao keeps still, spare for holding himself close by whatever he can get hold of, clinging to Sehun's shoulder as though he's at risk of being swept out of the bed.

"There," Sehun says with finality once he's more comfortably entangled them both. Giving way to the fuzz of lethargy far overtakes any urgency for an ache he can just press into Zitao's hip, and Zitao barely looks awake enough to even agree with the sentiment, let alone do anything about it if Sehun felt differently.

Zitao does agree, though, curled close and unprotesting at the pressure. It's warm and nice, if anything other than similar to knots in the mattress. He refrains from wiggling anymore once Sehun is comfortable, settling for expressing his dozy contentment with misaimed kisses and entrusting Sehun with the vitally important task of warming the tip of his nose.

"How much time..? Do you think?" he asks with his face smushed into Sehun's neck, followed by a whine as Sehun turns for his phone and disrupts him.

Sehun glances at the lock screen and drops it back down. "Probably not long now," he says as he turns back, "Long enough I guess." Long enough to catch up on a little of what they missed out on from the horribly early start yesterday, maybe.

Sehun tries to shift his numb arm under Zitao's shoulders to make himself marginally more comfortable if they're going to be settling down for good. It prompts Zitao into lifting up a little. He threads his fingers through Sehun's hair— tries to, at least, though all of him is weighed down with sleep and the impact of his knuckles is a little harsh in it's clumsiness.

"Night," he says despite the brightness behind the blinds, as he insists on saying good morning when they turn in past midnight. Sehun tuts and is kissed in response. What Zitao intends to be a kiss, at least, though he's practically asleep. Sehun tilts his head to catch as much of it as successfully aims nearer to his lips than chin.

"Afternoon," Sehun mumbles in reply once Zitao has tucked back in against him, nose to neck, socked toes wedged between Sehun's shins. Zitao would correct him if he weren't already sleeping, and Sehun would enjoy having the last word for longer if he didn't follow almost immediately.


End file.
